Thanks to the following reviewers: Enigma Jade, A Whisper In the Wind, Krissy Wonder, ArodieltheElfofRohan, Marin55, MCross, Windwraith, Kitsune, Dragonfly, Anarane, Elfinabottle, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.

Chapter 5: The Paradox: Perfection Perfected

The next day, Legolas awoke before the others and slipped out of his chamber even before the stars had begun to retreat in the face of the approaching sun. He did not do so, however, out of any eagerness to explore his new surroundings. It was true that Valinor was as beautiful as all the tales had claimed, but Legolas was intent upon other matters. First, he sought out Galadriel. As the light of dawn filtered through the trees, he found her in a glade much like the one in Lothlórien. Legolas's eyes were especially drawn to a certain plinth upon which lay a basin. Crossing the glade eagerly, Legolas stood before this plinth and looked hopefully at Galadriel, who smiled at his yearning expression, for it reminded her of the elfling of long ago.

"Legolas, surely you do not expect to find in Valinor the magic of Middle-earth."

"Lady, you still bear upon your finger Nenya, the Ring of Adamant. As long as you possess that Ring, you will not convince me that your Mirror has altogether lost its power."

"Do you think that this ring retains its potency now that Sauron's ring has perished?"

"At the Council in Rivendell, when we debated what was to be done with the One Ring, Elrond said that the elven rings might be undone at its loss; but he also said that they might be freed by its destruction. It is the latter that has come to pass, I think, for as I stand here, I can feel the glade humming with the strength of your wisdom and grace."

Galadriel inclined her head in acknowledgement. "What would you know, Legolas?"

"Aragorn had a moiety of elven blood. Is it possible that he has not altogether passed beyond the boundaries of this world? Could not Aragorn and Arwen be together, somewhere, even as we speak?"

"It is possible," Galadriel said, her voice neutral, her face expressionless. "You would see Aragorn, then?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"And only he?"

"No, I would see Arwen as well. It would be better for Aragorn to dissolve into nothingness than to dwell apart from his Lúthien. I would see the two of them, together."

"And what if the Mirror does not show you what you seek? If you venture down this path, you may suffer disappointment."

"But if I do not, I must dwell in doubt never ending. Perhaps I shall see what I wish to see; perhaps I shall not. If the first, at least in some part I may be satisfied. If the second, I shall suffer, but I suffer now."

"Very well, Legolas. But I promise nothing."

"I did not expect you to, my Lady," replied Legolas, a slight smile quirking the corners of his mouth. "You never did so before."

Galadriel picked up a pitcher and crossed over to a spring. Filling the pitcher with its translucent waters, she returned to the plinth and slowly poured the water into the basin. As Legolas watched, it seemed to him that the water turned to liquid silver as it cascaded from the lip of the pitcher into the basin. He drew near. The water was very still, and his own face looked back at him. Then a ripple began at one edge of the basin and slowly passed across the surface of the water. In its wake Legolas saw an empty room. In design it was elven, and Legolas tried to remember whether he had ever before seen this chamber. As Legolas watched, a door opened and Aragorn and Arwen entered together. Laughing and holding hands, they looked carefree, as they had on many occasions after Aragorn had returned from the ring-quest. They sat upon a settle, and leaned in toward one another. Just as their lips touched, the scene vanished, and Legolas again found himself gazing upon his reflection. He stepped back and looked quizzically at Galadriel.

"You have been vouchsafed your vision," she said. "Are you not satisfied?"

"May I ask a question?"

"You may. Whether I will answer—"

"—is another matter," Legolas finished for her.

"The passage of time has not made you any less of a scamp, Legolas," observed Galadriel, but she smiled as she spoke. "What would you ask, my child?"

"In Lothlórien, it was difficult to tell whether your mirror showed the present, the past, or the future. Do I see Aragorn and Arwen as they were, as they are, or as they will be?"

"In Lothlórien, I was famed for my enigmatic answers," answered Galadriel. "If my power has not diminished, then neither has my ability to keep my own counsel."

Legolas grimaced. One Age might give way to another, but some things, it seemed, were immutable. Galadriel gently laughed at his chagrined expression.

"I am afraid Glorfindel would be very disappointed in you, Legolas, if he knew you were able to make so little of your vision. Did you notice nothing that might help you answer your own question?"

Legolas considered. "I believe," he said thoughtfully, "that I have never been in the room that I saw, yet I would swear that there is no place in which Aragorn sojourned in which I did not sojourn as well."

"Indeed? And what do you make of that fact—if fact it is."

"It cannot have been a vision of the past," Legolas mused. "Therefore, I must have seen Aragorn and Arwen as they are in the present or as they will be in the future." He looked at Galadriel for confirmation, but her expression, as always, was noncommittal.

"What you say," she observed, "may be true—or it may not be."

Legolas felt his certainty wane. Perhaps he had seen this room in former years but had forgotten. He had entered a great many chambers during his time in Middle-earth. Perhaps he had not always paid as careful attention to his surroundings as he ought to have. He gave Galadriel a piteous look. "My Lady, can you give me nothing more than an equivocal vision and words likewise unclear?"

"Legolas," Galadriel chided, "you undervalue my gifts. I have given you hope. That was all I ever gave anyone who looked into my Mirror. Go forth and dwell in hope of what may be, for nothing need ever disabuse you of the notion that what you have seen may be that which truly is."

'Hope', thought Legolas. Estel.

"Yes," said Galadriel. "Yes, my child. There is always hope. Will that not suffice?"

Legolas stood thinking for a little while. "Yes," he said at last. "That will suffice."

"I am glad to hear it. Now, then, there is one who lived without hope for a very long time—an Age in the eyes of Men. He awaits you."

"My father."

"Yes, your father. You have no need to gaze into a mirror to see him."

Legolas smiled his thanks and hurried from the glade. Galadriel smiled as well as she watched him go, for his gait again put her in mind of the elfling of long ago. 'I do believe', she laughed to herself, 'that he is scampering'.

Scampering or no, Legolas lost no time in making his way to the dwelling that had been set aside for Thranduil. Legolas was not surprised to see that it was nestled deep within a dell. After so many centuries spent dwelling in the dolven Great Hall, Thranduil would have been unhappy if his abode had been placed upon an eminence. 'I have already seen', Legolas thought to himself, 'that Valinor is not everywhere the same. It does not answer to one notion of how the world ought to be, for there is a great multiplicity of architecture and customs. One would think Varda very much like Arda in that regard. I suspect that the really important difference is that folk here have given over all thought of superiority. Those who dwell in trees do not look down upon those who dwell upon the earth—or in the earth, for that matter. Nor do the earth-dwellers mock at those who, to their eyes, might be said to perch like birds upon limbs'.

Occupying himself in such thoughts, Legolas passed from chamber to chamber in search of his father. He found the King in the innermost chamber, sitting with his legs stretched out before him, lost in the perusal of a letter. Legolas stood in the door and coughed politely. Thranduil looked up and then sprang to his feet, still clutching the letter.

"Ah, Legolas," he smiled. "You have done carousing with your friends and have at last seen fit to visit your father."

"I hope you do not mind that I did not come to you at once, Ada."

"No, I knew that our reunion was one best suited for the quiet that would ensue after the initial hubbub. Your friends are still asleep, I would venture."

The last statement was uttered with a knowing look, and Legolas laughed. "Yes, Ada, they are all asleep and likely to remain so until noon or even beyond."

"Ah, and Elrond's twins and Haldir and his brothers were not even present to egg your friends on. I am impressed!"

"Yes, I noticed their absence. Do they live elsewhere in this land?"

"The twins dwell near Elrond and their mother Celebrian, and Haldir and his brothers have settled near Galadriel and Celeborn. Yet they are often abroad."

"Exploring the land?"

"No, venturing forth upon the sea. They are at this moment attempting a circumnavigation of the Undying Lands, if that be possible. I suspect that their restlessness will at some point inspire them to return to the East."

"To Arda! Would that be allowed?"

"All things are allowed, Legolas. It is simply a matter of being willing to accept the consequences."

"What would those consequences be, Ada?" Legolas asked eagerly, a thought beginning to form in his mind.

"Aye, there's the rub, Legolas," replied Thranduil, shaking his head. "My son, it is not often that consequences can be predicted to a certainty. Of course, this is as it should be, else our calculations would be too simple. What virtue would there be in making choices if the outcome were certain?"

"I suppose that is true," conceded Legolas. "If the event were certain, it would be easy indeed to choose between two courses of action—a matter of basic arithmetic, really. Risk entails uncertainty, and if there be none, then wherein lies the risk? When one steps upon a path, one must be willing to follow it to wherever it may lead."

"Exactly. True courage lies in being prepared to bear the outcome of your actions, whatsoever it may be—as you showed yourself willing to do when you set sail for Valinor in the company of a Dwarf!"

Legolas blushed with self-consciousness, and his father laughed.

"As modest as ever," he teased. "After all your adventures, you still do not see yourself as a hero—which is why you are one, I suppose, for you have sought neither gain nor reputation."

Legolas's blush deepened, and his father laughed harder. "Well," the King chuckled, "you will not put yourself forward, but I need not show similar restraint. No one questions the right of a father to dote upon his child, and I mean to make up for many lost opportunities in that regard. Only one person lives who may be able to outdo me in doting upon you."

"Edwen Nana," Legolas said promptly. "I have missed her. Where is she?"

"She has been summoned, as have Tathar and Tawarmaenas and their kin. She has been very busy nursing your friends' young ones, but she has always had love and to spare. She will not neglect you!"

"I did not fear it," rejoined Legolas, smiling now. He arose. "I must return to the pavilion now, Ada."

"But later you must dine with me—you and all your friends. Tell Gimli that I especially asked after him."

"I will, Ada. He will be glad to know it, for he feared that you would not forgive him for parting us."

Thranduil shook his head and handed Legolas the letter he had been reading before he became aware of the presence of his son. It was a missive that Legolas had given to Thranduil before the King departed for the Grey Havens. In it Legolas had bidden his father farewell and begged that he not grieve. He had also asked that Thranduil not depart Arda embittered against the Dwarf. "Do not let your days in Valinor be poisoned," Legolas had written, "as they should be if your heart harbored a grudge against my friend Gimli. He did not ask me to remain in Middle-earth, and he would never have done so. I embraced this course on my own, as much for my happiness as his, for the two are inextricably linked."

"I will not say that I did not grieve, Legolas, but I took to heart your appeal that I not be bitter. Whatever hasty words I uttered when you first told me of your plans, in the end I understood your decision. Indeed, as a father I would have exhibited a lamentable lack of faith in your virtue had I not respected your choice. Now as to Gimli: on his own merits he is a most admirable Dwarf, and I like him for that reason alone; considering that he is your friend, I must perforce like him all the more!"

Each well-pleased with the other, father and son parted for the time being, and a few hours later, Legolas returned to his father's dwelling accompanied by Gimli and the other surviving members of the Fellowship. Thranduil greeted all graciously but reserved the greater part of his attention for Gimli. He insisted that the Dwarf sit by him and superintended the refilling of his plate and cup. "Here," he would say, snatching a wedge of cheese from a passing tray, "you must have a bite of this. My son tells me that you are particularly fond of cheese. I think you will find this to be an especially tasty morsel."

"Mmpph," replied Gimli, trying to speak around the meat pie that Thranduil had urged upon him only a moment earlier. Legolas, watching, had to stifle his laughter. 'Gimli will fill out to his former size in a matter of days if Ada keeps feeding him at this rate', he laughed to himself. Eventually, however, willing guest though he was, Gimli had to declare himself incapable of eating another bite. Then the company adjourned from the table and resettled itself about the fire, where they were joined by many Elves, who commenced telling tales and singing songs as of old. Looking about, Legolas thought they might have been in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell, and he sighed with contentment. His pleasure was all the greater when he saw that Thranduil continued attentive to Gimli. Again the King had seated the Dwarf by his side, and now that Gimli had finished dining, he was able to keep up his end of the conversation.

"So, Thranduil," Gimli was saying, "no foes lurk hereabouts, grain springs untended from well-watered fields, honey runs down the sides of the beehives, and the tree limbs bend under the weight of fruit. How do you pass your days, then, seeing as how in this place there is little need for folk to exert themselves?"

Thranduil considered. Really, if there were any drawback to Valinor, it might be that it was a place too perfect. How had he been spending his days? In a sort of dream, he supposed, wandering about, remembering, listening to songs and tales of the past but paying no mind to the present. Indeed, there had been no present. Nor a future, neither. Suddenly Thranduil grinned, realizing as he did so that this was an expression that had not crossed his face in a very long time. Standing before him was both a present and a future in the form of a short, stout, hairy Dwarf who could be counted upon to say the outrageous and do the unexpected.

"Gimli," said Thranduil, still grinning, "it has been a long time since you have entertained us with one of your stories. Pray favor us with one now."

Gimli hesitated. It had been all very well to tell tales in Thranduil's Great Hall, but in Valinor even the least cottage was imbued with such grandeur that the Dwarf wondered whether his stories would still be found fitting. He hemmed and hawed nervously. "I hardly think one of my tales would be suitable, my Lord. This is a grand place, after all, and my tales are but poor things."

"Your tales make folk laugh, Gimli. How could they be considered 'poor things' when they bring joy into the world?"

"If you are certain, then, that my tale would suit."

"I am quite certain."

Gimli looked around at the assembled Elves. At last he caught Legolas's eye. Legolas pretended to shake his fist at him. At that, Gimli smirked and cleared his throat.

"Now, you think that this son of yours is a great rider, don't you," Gimli began, "but I must tell you, to the contrary, that he has fallen off his horse on more than one occasion!"

A murmur of amusement rippled through the company.

"Yes, Thranduil," Gimli continued cheerfully, "it pains me to have to tell you this, but your son has a rare gift for coming out of his saddle at the most inopportune moments."

'And you, Gimli', Thranduil thought to himself, 'have a rare gift as well. I understand even more clearly than before why Legolas could never have forsaken you. If he had, he would have been forsaking that which makes life—whether mortal or immortal—a gift rather than a burden'. Gazing about him, Thranduil suddenly saw that Valinor's perfection had been at one and the same time a source of imperfection. 'A perfect place', the Elf marveled to himself, 'does not encompass all possibilities—and therefore how could any place ever be perfect?'

Thranduil had never been of a philosophical bent, but in the days to come he often thought of the paradox of imperfect perfection, and he grew grateful that Gimli had put paid to the conundrum. 'I think', he found himself musing one day, 'that the Valar had always intended that Gimli should come one day to Valinor. He is another Frodo, I think: one who is small in statue but into whose hands is given a great charge. For Frodo, it was the destruction of the One Ring; for Gimli it was the fulfillment of the promise of the Undying Lands. For until his arrival on these shores, it was a promise and nothing more. Now this place has become real when before it was only a dream'.

Irascible, moody, unpredictable, and boisterous—but also merry, generous, jovial, and kind: Gimli to some might have seemed the unlikeliest of heroes, but to the formerly taciturn Thranduil, the Dwarf became something of a savior. 'Complete—that's it—complete', the King would say to himself as he smiled upon his short, stout, hairy friend whilst the Dwarf entertained the Elves who never seemed to tire of his antics. 'That's how things have felt since Gimli's arrival. I feel complete. Valinor feels complete. It's part having Legolas here, but not entirely, for Legolas himself would have been incomplete without Gimli'.

Yes, it did seem that with the arrival of Gimli matters had come to a successful conclusion. 'Let the circle be unbroken', some might have been inclined to say as they looked upon the ring of family and friends that surrounded a happy Thranduil. Still, let us always remember this: A circle unbroken can be a powerful metaphor for completion, but such a ring can also be an equally powerful symbol for entrapment. Indeed, if matters truly had been at an end, would that not have been the sort of 'perfection' that Thranduil had concluded impossible?

Reader, let us hope that Thranduil was right in his intuition. For if not, then here at last we have reached the end of this story—and that is as much to say, the end of this world. For a time, then, let us leave our Elves and Hobbits, our wizard and Dwarf, resting contentedly in Valinor—but let us hope that their contentment be not too profound—lest it rob us of ours!

My friends, this tale is told, but the Tale is not told. I am thinking along these lines: Five members of the Fellowship have gathered in Valinor: Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, Legolas, and Gimli. In Chapter 4 of this just-completed tale, I hinted that all might not be well in Middle-earth. In Chapter 5, I hinted that it might be possible for folk of Valinor to sail back to the East. Years after the arrival of Legolas and Gimli, conditions have become so difficult in Arda that the few surviving Hobbits have been driven underground in every sense of the word. Descendants of Merry and Pippin summon help from Valinor (I haven't worked out how yet—presumably through the use of some keepsake or token left behind by either Merry or Pippin—perhaps the little horn that Theoden gave Merry, when blown under the right conditions, will do the trick). A Council in Valinor agrees that the Fellowship shall be reconstituted and sent back to Arda. Legolas and Gimli journey to the Halls of Mandos with one of the three elven rings (perhaps Galadriel's) to recruit Aragorn, who, although reluctant to be parted from Arwen, agrees. With the Ring, Aragorn rematerializes. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf, Frodo, and Sam sail to Mithlond and journey to what remains of the Shire, where they are joined by a 'Merry' and a 'Pippin'. The Company then makes its way to Minas Tirith, where the Fellowship is completed with the addition of 'Boromir', who is the grandson or great-grandson or great-great-grandson of Faramir (I need to work out the chronology). I haven't thought things out any further than this, but I don't think I'm going to be able to resist sending our heroes off on a second quest.